


An Unassuming Life - Part 6

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Series: Domestic!Dean [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6785269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some big changes in store for Dean and the reader’s little family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unassuming Life - Part 6

 

You closed your eyes, praying when you opened them that the little pink plus would somehow have turned negative. 

“Please, please, please,” you mumbled under your breath. You opened your eyes, staring at the stick in your hand. Still positive.

You wrapped the pregnancy test in a wad of toilet paper and buried it deep in the bathroom trash can. You splashed some cold water on your face and tried not to cry. You didn’t know what you were going to do.

* * *

_ Two Weeks Earlier _

You could tell by the way Dean slammed the door that something was wrong. A few seconds later he stalked past you and went directly to the kitchen. You climbed to your feet and trailed after him, watching as he bypassed the refrigerator, went directly to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead taking a  few minutes to fill the tumbler, swallow it, then fill it again. You watched him, waiting patiently. He would talk when he was ready.

“The lift broke today,” he explained. “The hydraulics went out. I called Rufus and he thinks that it could cost up to ten grand to take care of it and the one that is close to going out. And to add insult to injury, one of the tow trucks took a shit. I’m gonna have to drop a new engine in it. Leaves us with one.” He drained the whiskey in the glass. “Between all of that and trying to pay my hospital bills, every dime I’ve managed to save since I took over is gonna be gone. And then some.”

“I could try to pick up some more hours at work,” you offered.

“What about Henry?” Dean asked. “We can’t afford to put him in daycare and my mom and Jess are already helping so much I hate to ask them to do any more. Besides, is that what you really want? To work more, see less of Henry. We barely see each other as it is, you picking up more hours would just make it worse.”

He was right, of course. You didn’t want to work more hours, you were happy with things the way they were. You stepped around the end of the counter, wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his chest. “You’re right,” you sighed. 

Dean rested his chin on the top of your head and his hands on your waist. “I’m just glad we decided to put off having another baby for a while. We are definitely not in a place where we can have another kid running around.”

* * *

You rinsed out your mouth, swiped at it with the towel and set it on the bathroom counter. You studied your face in the mirror, cringing slightly at the dark circles under your eyes and your pale skin. You’d have to hope that Dean either wouldn’t notice or believe your lame “I’m just tired” excuse.

It had been two weeks since you’d taken the pregnancy test, two weeks of sleepless nights, of dropping cryptic hints that Dean was seemingly oblivious to, two weeks of worrying, not eating, or worse, throwing up what you did eat.  You’d already lost several pounds. Stress and pregnancy, not a good combination.

You were still in the bathroom when the screams of three children tore through the house; Jess must have shown up with the twins. You splashed some more water on your face and hurried down the stairs. You were immediately hit by a rambunctious five year old wrapping her arms around your knees. 

“Hi, Auntie Y/N,” Joanna Beth smiled up at you.

“Hey pumpkin,” you grinned, crouching down in front of her. “How are you?”

“Bored,” your niece pouted. “I don’t want to play with Henry’s cars.”

You rose to your feet and took her hand, taking her with you to the kitchen. Dean was leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, licking his fingers. A box of donuts sat on the counter by his elbow. He smiled at you, put his arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to your temple. He put a cup of coffee in your hand, a gesture you appreciated, though you couldn’t drink it, the smell made you nauseous. You set it on the counter and poured a small glass of juice.

“Why does Henry have to be a boy?” Joanna piped up. “You know what, I think you need to have a baby girl, Auntie Y/N.”

You choked on the sweet apple juice, spitting it back into the glass. Jess pressed her fingers to her mouth, giggling, while Dean chuckled and shook his head.

“No babies around here,” he mumbled. “Not anytime soon.” 

You felt your stomach clench at the words and the bile rise in the back of your throat. You did your best to plaster a smile on your face, though you were pretty sure you failed. Dean didn’t seem to notice, just grabbed his to-go cup of coffee, kissed you again and called for Henry as he walked toward the front door. You watched him as he crouched in front of his son, spoke to him for several minutes, hugged him and walked out the door.

“What was that?” Jess asked the second the door clicked closed.

“What?” you asked innocently, not meeting the pretty blonde’s eyes.

“Y/N,” she sighed. “Don’t play coy with me. I can tell something’s up. You look like you haven’t slept in a week, you almost gagged when Dean handed you that coffee, and you looked positively miserable when he said no babies.” Realization dawned on her face, a tentative smile on her lips. “You’re pregnant!”

You looked quickly around the room, thankful to see that the boys were playing in Henry’s tent under the stairs and Joanna was looking at picture books on the corner of the couch. You reached across the counter and put your hand on Jess’s.

“Please, please don’t tell Dean,” you begged. 

“What? Why not?” she asked.

“The...the shop isn’t doing so great,” you muttered. Tears filled your eyes. You swiped furiously at them. Goddamn hormones. “He made a point of saying no kids right now. I...I just...just need time to...to figure out how to tell him.”

Jess was around the corner of the counter in a split second, wrapping her arms around you and hugging you. You leaned into her, grateful for her support. You burst into tears, quiet sobs tearing from your throat, muffled only because your face was pressed against Jess’s shoulder. 

“Shhh, Y/N, it’s okay,” she murmured. “I won’t say a word, I promise.”

You nodded, your tears soaking the old band t-shirt she was wearing. You had to figure out how to tell Dean. And soon.

* * *

You’d been sleeping for almost two hours, if you could call tossing and turning for those two hours sleeping. You’d kicked the blankets to the end of the bed and you were sprawled out across the entire thing, Dean’s pillow under your head. You were dozing off for maybe the third or fourth time when a loud cough came from the doorway. You glanced over your shoulder to see Dean leaning against the doorjamb, that lovable smirk on his face.

“Hey,” he chuckled.

“How long have you been standing there?” you grumbled.

“Long enough to know my wife is having trouble sleeping.” He rested a hand against the wall, using it to balance himself while he took off his boots. He reached over his head and pulled off his t-shirt and tossed it on the pile of laundry in the corner, followed by his jeans. He dropped onto the bed beside you, stretched out, his legs lying over yours, his hand in the middle of your back and his head beside yours on the pillow.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. How did he always know?

“Nothing,” you lied. “Why?”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his lips sliding along your clavicle, up your neck to your ear. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N,” he murmured. “I always know when you’re lying. Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

You opened your mouth to tell him, tell him everything, but his voice echoed in your ear, filled with worry about the business, money and a million other things that were weighing heavily on his mind. You just couldn’t add to that, couldn’t make it worse.

So instead of saying anything, you pushed yourself closer to your husband and buried your nose against his chest. He smelled like oil, soap, sweat and deodorant, all combined into a scent that was uniquely Dean.

“Just tired,” you finally said, falling back on the same old lie. “Missing my husband.” You cupped his face in your hand, caressing his cheek with your thumb, stretching your neck up so you could meet his lips with yours.

Dean rolled to his back, pulling you with him so you were lying across his chest. He kissed you, a kiss so tender that it had you on the verge of tears for the fourth or fifth time that day. He caressed your back, soft, gentle touches meant to soothe and comfort you, meant to ease you back into sleep.

But that wasn’t what you wanted from him, not when his hands were all over your body, his mouth was on yours and his scent was filling your head. You wanted was your husband to fuck you senseless so you could both forget about your problems for a while.

You pulled your knees up, tucking them against the side of his body, completely straddling him. You took his head in both hands, deepening the kiss, your breasts, encased in nothing but a paper thin t-shirt, pressed against his chest, his soft cock nestled between your legs.

Dean hummed, a quiet sound that started low in the back of his throat, spreading through his chest. He put his hands on your waist, sliding you forward, rocking you against his now hardening length. You moaned, grinding against him. His hands glided further up your sides, beneath your shirt, cupping your breasts, his thumbs circling the nipples.

Your shirt hit the floor, the two of you breaking apart just long enough for Dean to yank it off, your lips immediately returning to his, caught up in the sensation of kissing the man you loved. He pushed his hands beneath your shorts, kneading your ass with his huge warm hands, rocking his hips up against yours, his thick cock pressed against your damp panties, rubbing them against the slick lips of your pussy. 

Dean’s mouth made it’s way down your neck, pausing to lick at the hollow of your throat before continuing down your chest. He took your breast in his mouth with a hungry growl, his lips wrapping around the hard nub, sucking it into his mouth. 

“Jesus,” you gasped, rolling your hips, squirming with an unbridled need. 

Dean lifted you with one hand, pushing at your now soaked panties. You rolled to the side and kicked them off, your husband doing the same with his boxers. He pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard, opened his arms and gestured to you.

“Come here,” he said, the smirk back on his face.

You straddled him again, his hand between your legs, fingers just teasing at your entrance, his other hand on your waist, holding you in place. Those sinfully perfect lips wrapped around your breast as he eased two fingers in your wet cunt, pulling them forward and grinding his palm against your clit.

He released your breast and kissed a warm, wet trail up your neck to your mouth, his tongue dancing across your lips. You rocked forward, riding his thick fingers, tiny mewls of pleasure falling from your lips, the scruff on his chin from a day of growth scratching you as he rained kisses across your upper torso. 

“Jesus, Y/N, you’re so fucking wet,” he groaned. “Want to feel you wrapped around me.” He pulled his fingers from you, moving to line himself up with your entrance, easing you down onto him. 

Dean sat up and pulled your legs around his waist as you lowered yourself onto his pulsing cock. You moaned as he filled you, your head dropping to his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you, the two of you chest to chest, moving together in a slow, easy grind. He was biting his lower lip, the pink skin caught between his teeth, his head thrown back, the muscles in his neck, shoulders, and arms taut as he held you and thrust up into you. Every thrust pressed his abdominal muscles against your swollen clit, sending unbelievable bursts of pure bliss shooting through you.

You moved with him, your hips rocking forward as he thrust into you, his hand sliding up your back and into your hair, tangling his fingers in it, his lips seeking out yours. He held your mouth to his, deepening the kiss with every thrust of his hips, both of you moaning into each other’s mouth, breath mingling, noses bumping as you moved together as one.

You were close, really close, your body wound so tight you were trembling in Dean’s arms, a light sheen of sweat covering your body, your pulse pounding in your ears, gasping with every drag of his cock over your sweet spot. Your nails dug into his shoulders, a scream in the back of your throat, Dean buried deep inside of you, your walls clenching around him as you came, the scream finally letting loose as your entire body exploded with pleasure.

Dean grunted, forehead pressed to your shoulder, thrusting faster and faster, drawing out the sensations, the orgasm so intense you felt light headed, felt like you were floating outside of your body, vision gone black, heat flooding you until you weren’t sure you could take anymore. He let go with a long groan, cock swelling, his come filling you, dripping down your inner thighs, a shudder running through him.

He fell back against the headboard, breathing heavily, a smile on his face. He hugged you to his chest, his cheek resting on the top of your head, his fingers drifting lazily up and down your back. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.” You looking up at him, forcing a smile onto your face. “I promise.”

Dean kissed the top of your head, then eased you off of him and climbed from the bed. He leaned over, nuzzling his nose against your neck. He brushed your hair away from your face.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he smiled. “Come with me?”

You nodded, watching him as he walked to the bathroom. You brushed away the tears you felt forming at the corner of your eyes. You had to tell him. This couldn’t go on much longer.

* * *

Another week passed, another week that you spent worrying and wondering what to do. You felt like the entire world was closing in on you, that you were practically suffocating. Every time you thought you’d worked up the nerve to tell Dean about the pregnancy, something stopped you. Nerves, fear, whatever it was, you just couldn’t do it.

“Mommy?” Henry tugged on your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. “Can I wear my new t-shirt to Gammy’s?”

You smiled down at your son, ruffling his hair. “The one Daddy gave you?”

“Yeah, this one,” he grinned, holding up the shirt, “with letters on it.”

You picked Henry up and set him on the counter in front of you. “I’ll tell you what, you tell me what the letters are and I’ll let you wear it.” You held up the shirt. “Go ahead.”

Henry stared at it, concentrating, the same look on his face that Dean would get when he was trying to solve a problem. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Um, that’s an A,” he said, pointing at the letter. “And uh, a C and a D and that’s a C, too. Am I right?”

“Yeah, baby, you’re right,” you laughed. “Did Daddy teach you that?”

“Yep,” he giggled. “He said that I has to know those forever and ever. ‘Cause they’s you’s favorites!”

You picked Henry up and kissed his soft cheek. “I do love AC/DC,” you answered. “Daddy did good.” You set him on the floor. “Go get your things and we’ll go. Daddy is meeting us there.”

‘There’ was the Winchester’s. Mary had been trying to get the family together for weeks, but Sam and Dean’s work schedules had been making it nearly impossible. She’d finally put her foot down and ordered her son’s to get their act together and make it happen. Never ones to argue with their mother, the brothers had finally settled on a day, though both of them had spent the morning working, arriving at their parent’s house just an hour or so after their families.

Henry heard the Impala before anyone else did, his ears finely tuned to the sound of his Daddy’s car. He plastered himself against the front window, squealing in joy and banging on it as soon as Dean stepped from the car. He was in his father’s arms before the door had opened all the way, his loud scream of “Daddy” echoing through the house.

Dean laughed, lifting his son to put him on his shoulders. He kissed you, then made his way outside to join the rest of the family. Henry stayed glued to his side for more than half an hour, talking his father’s ear off, telling him all of the things Dean had missed during the week. He finally stopped talking only when his grandmother set a plate full of food in front of him.

“Hey,” Dean murmured, leaning over Henry to put a hand on the back of your neck. “Miss me?”

“Nah,” you giggled. “My date kept me busy.” You looked pointedly at the little boy sitting between the two of you. 

Dean laughed and shook his head, turning his attention to the huge burger his mother had just handed him. You nibbled at your food, letting the soothing sounds of the Winchester family wash over you - Mary scolding the boys about their table manners, John telling them to listen to their mother, Jess and Sam’s constant flirting, the children playing on the swing set John had installed the previous year. Your stomach did a slow flip at the thought that in nine months the cries of a baby would join the other family noises.

Suddenly nauseous, you put the back of your hand to your mouth, praying you wouldn’t have to excuse yourself to run to the bathroom. You didn’t have morning sickness, you had all day sickness. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, willing yourself not to throw up. You excused yourself from the table under the pretense of taking dirty dishes to the kitchen. You set them in the sink, then splashed some water on the back of your neck. 

You stood at the sink for a few minutes, staring out the window, watching your husband’s family. Your family. A family that would support you and Dean no matter what. Those people out there, they would help you through anything that came along. That’s what family did. That knowledge was the driving force behind your decision.

You’d enough of the lying, enough of the secrets. You were going to tell Dean you were pregnant, tonight.

John and Sam were clearing the dishes from the table when you slid back into your seat. Henry had gone off to play with his cousins, so Dean moved to the chair beside you and slipped his arm around your waist. He pressed his lips to your ear, whispering things to you that he shouldn’t be whispering when you were sitting at his parents dinner table. Jess was setting glasses on the table and Mary was pouring wine into each of them.

“No wine for the pregnant lady,” Jess giggled, pushing your glass away just before Mary could pour the wine into it. 

“What?” Mary said, a grin spreading across her face. “You’re pregnant?”

But you ignored your mother-in-law, instead looking up at your husband. The utter and complete confusion and disappointment on his face nearly broke your heart.

“You’re pregnant?” Dean whispered.

You couldn’t speak, only nod slowly, unable to look away, your hands twisting nervously in your lap.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“A little over three weeks,” you mumbled. 

“And you told Jess? But not me?” Before you could answer him, Dean stumbled to his feet, his lips pursed in anger, his fists clenched at his sides. His chair fell to the floor as he stalked away.

“Thanks, Jess,” you spat at your sister-in-law before running after Dean.

He was out the front door, almost to the Impala when you caught up with him. You grabbed his arm, but he shrugged it off, stepping just out of your reach, his hand on the car door. He didn’t turn around.

“Dean, wait a minute, please?” you begged.

He still didn’t turn around, but he also didn’t get in the car. He tensed his shoulders, waiting.

“I know you’re angry.” Your voice shook as you spoke, the words barely understandable as you struggled to stave off the tears. “This is all on me. I screwed up and I got pregnant. I know you didn’t want another kid right now, maybe not at all, not with things the way they are, but we’ll figure it out. I know we will. We always do.” You swallowed, the sound echoing in your ears. “Please try to accept this. It’s happening whether you like it or not.”

Dean’s shoulders slumped, his chin falling to his chest. With a heavy sigh, he yanked open the car door, the distinctive squeak of the hinges making you jump. You watched as he dropped into the black beauty without a word, turned over the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

Two little arms wound their way around your legs. You looked down to see Henry staring up at you, tears in his jade green eyes, so much like his father’s. 

“Mommy, where Daddy go?” he whispered.

“I don’t know, baby,” you answered, staring after the lights of the Impala as they rounded the corner. “I don’t know.”


End file.
